


The Thief and the Wanderer

by summerbutterfly



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Canon Related, Community: yuletide_smut, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Reincarnation, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 09:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3169616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerbutterfly/pseuds/summerbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pilgrim and a treasure hunter meet at the Caves of the Thousand Buddhas.  And not for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thief and the Wanderer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [7veilsphaedra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/7veilsphaedra/gifts).



> Written for the [2014 Yuletide Smut Exchange](http://yuletide-smut.dreamwidth.org) on Dreamwidth. 
> 
> A huge thank you to everyone who left comments and feedback over there. I sincerely appreciate your kind words. A huge thank you, too, to my beta team who lovingly caught my typos and word misuses. Still, I touched it last, so remaining mistakes belong to me.

Abbot Wang had thought he'd seen the last of the treasure hunters when the Frenchman departed in the early spring of 1908, but alas, that was not to be. The first of the Japanese arrived less than a season later, just a few weeks before the solstice, with two camels and a pony packed nose-to-tail with all manner of supplies. It was more than enough for a lengthy stay for the single man who led them, and Abbot Wang was not happy with the prospect of more foreign company. Because more company meant more pillaging, and though his precious caves had been somewhat repaired with the money he'd earned from previous visitors, he couldn't help but feel they'd (and he'd) suffered enough at the hands of unwanted company for one year. 

"There's nothing left," he told the man, and he spoke in Mandarin because he felt no need to be polite. "You can go back to where you came from because there's nothing for you here. The scrolls are all gone."

The man dismounted his pony. "Thank you, but it's not the contents of your library that I am looking for." The man answered back in near-flawless Chinese, catching Abbot Wang by surprise. "I am after something else entirely. I'm sure you're not aware of it, but that's no matter. I won't be needing your help."

Abbot Wang's brow furrowed. "There is nothing in this area I am not aware of ," he said. "I have been the caretaker here for a long time now, and I know this land as well as I know my own name."

"Yes, I'm sure you do." The man smiled in a cold way that made Abbot Wang uneasy. "However, the sands are full of secrets, my friend. Secrets that will only reveal themselves when the seeker knows exactly where to look. If he doesn't, they will stay hidden, because such is the way of secrets. It is not in their nature to reveal themselves at random."

"Is that so?" the Abbot questioned. 

"It is," said the man. "And now if you don't mind, I'd like to set up my camp before the heat becomes too unbearable. Good day to you, sir." 

The man drew a tobacco tin from the breast pocket of his worn coat. He flipped it open, and pulled out a cigarette, which he then put between his lips but made no move to light. His dark, inscrutable eyes stared Abbot Wang down, chilling him to the bone. 

Without another word, the Abbot departed, leaving the stranger to his camp.

The following day, the pilgrim arrived.

Abbot Wang first saw him in the light of the early morning, when he was still a far-off speck on the horizon, the white of his robes glowing in a way that only a Holy Man's would. Cheered by this, the Abbot hurried through his morning routine, wanting to be ready for his guest's arrival. A Holy Man would surely assist him in the event the man camped out in his desert changed his mind regarding rifling through the sacred treasures. A Holy Man would surely understand just how dedicated the Abbot was to keeping his caves intact. 

The pilgrim graced him just after midday. 

Abbot Wang dropped to his knees in a kowtow, pressing his forehead into the sandy earth. 

"Holy Brother," he said. "It is an honor to have you here. Welcome!" 

"Ah, please," the pilgrim said. "The honor is all mine. Rise, Brother, and let me present my kowtow to _you_ as it is because of your diligence that this holy place even still exists."

Abbot Wang did as he was asked, but he did so on shaky, unstable legs. The pilgrim spoke with the accent of Xi'an, the same region from which his great idol Xuanzang had hailed, and his stomach fluttered at the prospect of speaking to someone from such an exalted place. 

"Brother," he said. "While I am honored it's really not necessary..."

"Oh but it is. Your commitment to your cause is beyond honorable, and I would be remiss, as a fellow man of faith, not to acknowledge that."

The pilgrim knelt. Abbot Wang did his best to hold himself still, accepting the appreciation with as much humility as he could muster, and inviting the pilgrim back to his humble home for tea when all was finished.

To his delight, the pilgrim accepted. 

"What brings you to the Caves, Brother?" He served the Holy Man first, sitting on his knees beside him until he was told to serve himself. 

"Well, I would like to say the need for spiritual rejuvenation, but alas that is not the case." The pilgrim took his tea with a sigh. "I'm here because the time has come for me to be." 

The Abbot glanced toward the door, thinking of the strange, dark man out there among the alluvial dunes, then glanced back. "Are you meeting someone?" he asked. 

 

"No, no." The pilgrim waved his hand. "Nothing like that. Well, not really. It's more like a preordained appointment. A long time ago, I was asked to be here on a certain day. So here I am."

The Abbot blinked. "I'm sorry, Brother, but I don't think I understand."

"No worries, I'm not sure I do either." The pilgrim smiled. "But to be honest with you, my purpose for being here is neither here nor there today. So come, enjoy this tea with me. It is such a lovely thing to have after a long and dusty journey, and I hate to indulge alone." 

Abbot Wang nodded, and moved to sit at the table. The pilgrim poured, and Abbot Wang sipped from the steaming cup with gratitude and humility. 

They passed the rest of the morning with companionable, idle chatter.  
.............................

The pilgrim met the treasure hunter the next day. It was not the Abbot's doing. The Abbot had been quite frank about his desire to have no association with the foreigner, so it was the pilgrim who took it upon himself to visit the man at his camp as dawn broke over the horizon.

"Ahhh," he said, and the treasure hunter turned to him with a smile that would have won over no one. "I should have known it was you. Who else would be out here on the cusp of summer if not one such as yourself?"

"You, obviously," the other man replied. "But then again, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, either. Hello, old friend."

The pilgrim inclined his head. "Hello, Ukoku."

The pilgrim sat down. The treasure hunter made room, and drew out a snuff bottle, uncapping it, and offering some to his companion.

The pilgrim declined with a shake of his head. "Not in this life," he said gently. 

The treasure hunter laughed. "Finally a true Holy Man after all this time? I'm almost disappointed in you, Koumyou."

"No need for disappointment. When my business is finished here, I may consider breaking my vows. For now, however, I prefer to keep my head clear."

"Ah, so you _have_ come for it." The treasure hunter inhaled deeply, then wiped the back of his hand across his nose. "I figured." 

"You have, too," Koumyou said. "Am I right?" 

"Of course." Ukoku reached for another spoonful of snuff. "Who would I be to deny the Solstice's call after all this time?"

Koumyou chuckled. "Who indeed," he murmured. 

He leaned forward. Resting his chin on his knees, he watched as the sun rose, its light moving across the endless sea of sand the same way it had for thousands upon thousands of years.

"Do you still look forward to it?" Koumyou asked. "Dying?" 

Ukoku snickered. "Not really," he admitted. "After the ninth or tenth time, it loses its thrill." 

"And yet, we go through over and over again."

"I suppose that's what we get for pissing off the wrong gods." Ukoku stretched out his legs and looked up to the sky. "Or at least I did. You've never really told me why you're still here."

Koumyou kept his eyes trained forward, but let a small smile play across his lips. "I have my reasons."

"I hope they're good ones..."

"They're good enough." 

The sun rose even higher, and Koumyou felt the first warm wave of desert heat against his face. And behind them, the camel bellowed, filling the empty expanse with sound.

.............................

The Abbot did not see the pilgrim the following day. Nor did he see him for the two days after his visit with the foreigner. He was beginning to worry, but then on the fourth morning, while on his way to begin his daily tour of the caves, he spotted the pilgrim walking front of him, heading for the ladder that led to what he referred to as Xuanzang's Altar. 

"Brother!" he called out. "Brother, good morning!"

The pilgrim stopped and turned, waving at him with a squinty-eyed smile. "And a good morning to you, fine sir! I hope you don't mind, but I thought I'd take a look around?"

The Abbot paused. It was, of course, not unheard of for visitors to enter the caves, but it was rare for them to enter _Xuanzang's_ cave which was, in Abbot Wang's opinion, the most sacred cave of them all.

A small wave of anxiety washed over him. 

"I don't mind," he called back. "However, if you'll wait just a moment, I'll be happy to accompany you. There's been some small cave-ins in certain areas and..."

Abbot Wang choked on his words as the pilgrim set a sandaled foot on the ladder's first, decrepit rung. 

"Don't trouble yourself." The pilgrim's voice and smile were jovial. "I can handle a little dust in my hair. Besides, it'll only be a minute and then I'll be down. Take care of your morning duties!"

"But..." 

"Really, I'll be fine!"

Abbot Wang looked on helplessly as the pilgrim began to ascend. And then, with a heavy sigh, he dropped his bag of tools and raced after him.

He caught up with the pilgrim in the alcove, the cramped space right before the entrance to the room that held Xuanzang's mural. It was dark, save for just a few slivers of light filtering in from the doorway, and the air smelled of rotting, spoiled food. 

Abbot Wang put his sleeve over his nose. He had meant to come up here and clean out the last of the previous visitor's offerings, but the hubbub over the library scrolls, and the non-stop parade of foreign invaders had caused several delays. He hoped the pilgrim wouldn't be too horribly offended, and was relieved when the other man seemed to neither notice nor care about the putrid odor as he walked over to the mural's wall.

"Well, well, well," he murmured. His squinty-eyed smile took on a look of soft fondness. "Look at that."

Abbot Wang toed a rotted aubergine out of the way and came up behind his visitor. "That is Xuanzang the Great," he said. "The one who brought us the scriptures from India."

"Yes, I know." The pilgrim touched the painted rock with just the tips of his fingers. "I know the story well. And I've heard about this particular rendering, but this is the first time I'm seeing it in person."

"Ah! You've heard of it?" Abbot Wang was pleased. "I've done my best to keep it safe. I would never forgive myself if anything were to happen to it."

"It means that much to you?"

"No...yes. The painting doesn't. But Xuanzang...Xuangzang is who inspired me to take my vows."

"Heh." The pilgrim gave a good-natured chuckle. "I wonder what he'd think if he were to hear you say that."

"I would hope he'd be pleased...do you not think so?" 

"It's hard to say," the pilgrim said. "Xuanzang was an enigmatic one. And, if the legends are to be believed, he was something of a selfish, spoiled punk who traveled with demons and was possibly part demon himself."

Abbot Wang inhaled sharply, an action he instantly regretted when the stench of rotting produce infused his nostrils. "How...what legend would dare say such a thing?" he demanded. "Xuanzang was a great and holy man!"

"Not always. Before he was Xuanzang, he was Kouryuu of the River's Flow. The orphan child raised at Kinzan Temple. And he was quite a handful." 

Abbot Wang's eyes narrowed. "You speak almost as if you knew him, Brother..."

"That's because I did." The pilgrim chuckled again. "Xuanzang was my disciple, and the man who succeeded me as Sanzo."

The Abbot felt a bolt of cold, cold fear.

"B...brother?" he stammered.

"I'm sorry." The pilgrim looked away, but the smile never left his lips. "I've said too much, haven't I?"

"I'll...be outside sweeping," said the Abbot, and he left the room with great haste.  
.............................

When Koumyou visited Ukoku later that evening, the treasure hunter wasted no time expressing his disdain for the cave's caretaker as they packed Ukoku's camp and set out on a water-gathering expedition to nearby Crescent Lake. 

"You certainly riled him up," he grumbled. "He came out here just before you arrived, white as a sheet, babbling nonsense about ghosts and talismans. I had to douse myself with a vial of salt just to get him to go back where he came from."

"Ah, yes, apologies," Koumyou said. "I went to go look at the mural this morning and might have said something I shouldn't have."

"Kouryuu's mural?"

"Mmm hmmm."

Ukoku snorted. "He was always much too young for you, you know."

"Says the man who took in his own boy because he was jealous of mine."

"Not jealous. More like I felt I needed something of my own to compliment you." 

"So you procured yourself someone you could treat like a pet?" 

Ukoku looked away, but did not deny the accusation.

Koumyou crossed his hands and tucked them inside his sleeves. "He turned out well. Kouryuu, I mean." 

"He turned out to be a cold-blooded killer. But if that's what you intended, then I guess you could say he turned out well." 

"Oh come now, Ukoku. Surely you're not still angry that he saw through your ruse and was the catalyst for your inevitable demise?" 

Ukokyu frowned. "There are some deaths you never forget, Koumyou. And for me, that is one of them."

"But it was a good death, wasn't it? Wrought with strife? Littered with casualties?"

"It was a memorable death. And for my first one not by your hand, I suppose that was the most I could have asked for."

Koumyou chuckled. "Had you not killed me first," he said wryly, "I would have been more than happy to send you on to your next incarnation."

"Well, we live and we learn, my friend."

"So we do," Koumyou agreed. "Some of us longer than others."

Ukoku laughed.

They walked on.  
.............................

They arrived at the lake just after midnight, pitching Ukoku's tent rather than going in search of more permanent lodging. It was cramped, but many, many lifetimes of acquaintanceship had given them the kind of familiarity that canceled out any type of discomfort. Koumyou even removed his upper garments, setting them aside in a neat pile while Ukoku looked on, amused. 

"Trying to tempt me with your alluring physique?" he asked.

"Why?" Koumyou returned. "Is it working?"

"Would you like it to be?" Ukoku took out his cigarettes.

Koumyou wrinkled his nose. "Not if you are going to smoke."

Ukoku's lips twitched into a wide grin. "So you've given up these, too? Oh, what a sad day it is. Especially considering I don't think cigarettes are high up on the list of punishable vices at this point."

"They're still a vice." Koumyou laid down on his back, folding his hands behind his head. "So I would think they would still count."

"Maybe. But considering we seem to be the exceptions to all the karmic laws of the universe, I wouldn't bet on it." Ukoku lit up, inhaled and blew out a long, sinewy stream of smoke. "Besides, I have a feeling we'll be back again. The gods don't seem done with us yet. So what's a little tobacco between friends?" 

Koumyou sighed and stared up at the tent's battered canvas ceiling. "I wonder sometimes if this amuses them," he murmured. "I wonder if that's why, every time, despite our magic getting more and more powerful, we return."

Ukoku shrugged. "I wouldn't put it past them. Gods tend to have rather warped senses of humor when it comes to these things."

"Warped sense of humor...that's rich coming from you."

"Says the man who used to wander naked through the temple after his bath."

"Now, now, that was only once. And I didn't do it on purpose, had forgotten my towel. I didn't realize it would cause the novices such distress!"

"Half of those novices had never seen seen themselves naked, never mind someone else." 

"Yes, but we still all had the same bits..."

"That doesn't mean everyone would enjoy gazing upon yours."

Ukoku blew another wave of smoke into the air. It lingered momentarily before drifting up, escaping through the small gap at the tent's apex.

Koumyou rolled to his side, tucking one hand up under his head. "Would you want to gaze upon mine?" he asked.

Ukoku licked his lips. "Have I ever turned you down before?" 

"Well...there was that one time..."

"That one time wasn't one of the moments when we were less than a week away from death." Without finishing his cigarette, Ukoku stubbed it out. "And if I remember right, _I_ was the virtuous one in that life."

"You were no such thing," Koumyou said. "You were just as deviant as you'd always been, you'd just chosen to repent for it."

"And in this life...will using your body absolve me of my sin?" Ukoku's dark eyes looked Koumyou up and down. "Will I be cleansed by the power of your virtue?" 

Koumyou smiled. "Even if you aren't, nothing will be lost by trying." 

"So true," Ukoku agreed.  
.............................

They slept in the next day. Then, at nightfall, they gathered enough water to last them the week and returned to the tent. The moon rose, and the Summer Solstice crept closer. By the following morning, the air had grown thick.

Across from their camp, the residents of the town grew restless. Ukoku and Koumyou watched as they went about their day-to-day lives with an edge of tension that none of them could explain. Even the sand seemed to take on a certain sharpness, tiny grains glinting like a diamonds in the early sun, and the ponies and camels tossed their heads, troubled by the disquiet. 

By noon, the streets had cleared. The townsfolk had holed up inside, escaping the heat, and hoping to get away from the strange feel of the air. Koumyou and Ukoku did the same, but not out of fear.

The next day, things got worse.

Deeply troubled by the ongoing strangeness, the town called upon their astronomers--officials and experts who could look at the skies and determine if there was some sort of unforeseen, cosmic event about to take place. But despite all their learning, the great men of science could find nothing--no way to explain why everything felt as if it was being smothered under a great, soft blanket. And though Koumyou and Ukoku knew, they didn't volunteer their information when asked, instead playing the part of wayward travelers who were just as caught up in the oddity as everyone else. 

They slept again, this time in intimate proximity.

One day out from the equinox, Koumyou made himself comfortable in the shade of a clump of desert scrub, dropping into a deep meditation and calling together his strength. Ukoku remained at camp, rolling cigarettes and watching the smoke scatter into the wind. It was unusually hot, even for the desert, and the sun seemed to burn everything not protected from its rays with a disturbing intensity. The townsfolk barely cracked their doors open, and the usual flurry of lakeside activity seemed to grind to a halt. 

On the eve of the solstice, Ukoku and Koumyou got up and walked out onto the empty desert plain.

Their rolled parchments waited for them. Koumyou picked his up off the sand and draped it over his shoulders. Ukoku called his to him with a flick of his wrist. They faced each other, pressed their hands together and bowed.

The desert air crackled.

"Shall we make it quick?" Koumyou asked. "Or would you like to stall a while and see if we've acquired any new tricks?" 

Ukoku pushed up his sleeves. "You know I always like to go out knowing as much as I can for the next round. For instance, that one life where I learned all about your weak side and killed you instantly."

A slash of magic raced through the air.

Koumyou side-stepped.

"I am not the man I was in that life," he returned. "And I will not go down as easily."

"So you say." 

Ukoku lashed out again. 

Koumyou waved his hand, dissipating the strike before it could reach him.

"I do say," he said. "And you seem to be forgetting, this is one of the lives where _I_ kill _you_."

"You still need to let me give you your mortal wound."

"And we'll get there. Just not yet."

Koumyou raised his arms, and a great rush of power sent Ukoku staggering back. A second one sent him to the ground, clutching his shoulder.

The desert sands hissed. 

Ukoku groaned, then laughed. Blood seeped through his fingers, staining the worn cotton of his shirt a deep, crimson red. "Well played," he said. He struggled to his feet, unstable but upright. "Well played my friend, but not enough to keep me down for good."

"It wasn't intended to be." Koumyou brought his hands back together. "Just enough to wake you up."

"Well, I am most certainly awake. Shall we continue?"

"Please."

Koumyou pressed his index fingers together. Ukoku did the same. Their eyes met.

The desert sky cracked. 

.............................

The sound of an explosion woke Abbot Wang from a sound sleep. Eyes wide, he held still, listening and shivering as a strong gust of wind rattled the wooden shutters, made the old, stone walls of his humble house creak. 

It went on for several minutes before it passed.

When it did, Abbott Wang slipped quietly out of bed, opening his front door. 

He expected there to be damage. For something to be out of balance, out of place. But shockingly, there was nothing. Nothing odd, and no sign that what had almost felt like a miniature storm had just passed this way. Everything was just as it had been every other day except the sky. There was a faint glow in the direction of Crescent Lake, and the moon seemed somehow dull, almost as if it wanted to fade into the black fabric of the night. 

Abbot Wang sucked in his breath. Though he probably didn't have anything to fear, he decided to check on the caves. They had survived centuries of weather, so there probably wouldn't be anything to see there either, but it would ease his mind to have visual confirmation.

Slipping into his shoes and robe, Abbot Wang hurried outside.

As predicted, he found nothing out of place at the caves either. No excess sand, no crumbles of rock dust, no overturned statues or altars. The only thing that was odd was something _in_ the actual content of Xuanzang's painting. There were, for the first time, two smaller figures flanking Xuanzang's horse- a white-robed man with golden hair, and a dark priest holding a lotus crown.

Abbot Wang raised his lantern and leaned closer. 

They were both smiling, and the Great and Merciful Kuanyin seemed to be welcoming them to the fold with a beam of golden light. Other than that, no one else in the image seemed to notice or care that their party of four had become a party of six, seven if you counted the dragon king's son as a horse.

Seven men and the Goddess of Mercy.

Abbot Wang scratched his head in wonder.


End file.
